The Magic Eye
by phantomwriter05
Summary: There are few things that can get past Vince Faraday and after the train gala, Orwell and her past is no exception.


**The Magic Eye**

When Vince Faraday was twenty two years old he had enlisted with the images of 9/11 still fresh in his mind. Men were needed if there was ever going to be justice for the thousands of men, women, and children trapped under the rubble of the twin towers and pentagon, Fighters were needed if there would be any peace for the passengers who tried to take back their plane over the skies of Pennsylvania as it made its way to the Capital.

And as it so happened …Faraday's were fighters.

He received high marks for hand to hand as well as marksmanship in basic and his drill instructors knew that they could use a man like Vince in the special units being sent into the rocky hills and mountains of Afghanistan.

They called themselves "The Outriders" advanced recon out in the cold highlands where the natives of the land rejected modern times and seven century law, long outdated ruled the land. They tracked Al-Qaeda movements from cave to cave radioing positions and details of who was with the terrorists.

Vince wondered one night after thinking about the beaches and warmth of Palm City what he was doing in this barren tundra of ice and rocks while he was embedded in a snow covered village in the heights of the Afghan and Pakistan border. He had traded his fatigues for sheep herder attire, a regular issue wool beanie for a turban, and jump boots for sandals. If it was bad enough he had to sit amongst what he was sure was some of the smelliest sheep this side of the Far East.

He couldn't tell if he was going nuts or if he was just stupid wearing ridicules attire as he huddled under the blanket wrapped around him as he sat near a fire as the sheep bleated behind him clicking their hoofs on rocks.

On the other side of the fire was a man that wouldn't give him his name, he was a CIA asset that was assigned to be his translator and help with the terrain. He was an old man with a scraggly face and a long beard. He was a native but spoke enough English to be understood.

Both didn't talk much, mostly because they didn't have much to talk about. Neither could give a name, nor talk about where they came from. The snow became a less than interesting topic ten minutes in, so Vince decided that he was saving the oh so riveting conversation about how itchy his bushy beard was for when things got really dull.

The old man looked at the younger man and squinted his lined face with interest.

"You have the magic eye young warrior …" the man spoke solemnly.

Faraday lifted an eyebrow at the bluntness of the statement. "The what?" he asked scratching his beard.

The man's brown orbs seemed to glow in the firelight as he pointed to the soldier with conviction. "You have a rare gift to see what is not only on the surface but what's below it … you can see the truth in a soul." There was something mystical about the man's voice.

Vince blinked at the statement and the unusual turn of going from the sheep shuffling to talking about something that sounded like it belonged in one of his "The Cape" Comics back at base.

He smiled at the man and laughed ruefully at the statement. "Yeah well I knew a girl named Dana back at Palm City U who would say you're full of shit …"

If he expected to get a laugh then he was mistaken for the man looked at him with the same solemn eyes as before and blinked at him.

"You may joke about it now, but someday it will help you with your job, for the purpose Allah has put you on this planet for … and one day it will bring comfort to _her_."

Faraday frowned in confusion.

"Who is this "her" you're talking about?" He asked with a sigh of condescension remembering the briefing about how many of the locals had their superstitions and to be respectful to them.

The man smiled a condescending smile of his own through his lined face at the young soldier accompanying him at the shepherd's fire. Vince looked down still smiling for some reason at the man's attitude.

"We'll see I guess …"

"Yes, we'll see, young warrior."

###

Vince Faraday was in the middle of his floor sitting cross legged, lost in thought. He looked at all of the computer equipment sitting on the desks and thinking about all of what his now permanent roommate had said to Fleming on the train and the sound of how nervous she was when she addressed him. He could hear it in her voice and breathe as she spoke through his com. It was strange that she could stand up to some of the meanest that Tarot had to offer and yet fled like a scared little girl at the first sight of Peter Fleming coming after her.

The sound of the bathroom door opened and a rush of steam and the smell of fresh intoxication of the shampoo she used swept into the room making him smile at the distinct feminine smell that he had never been around. Dana never was much of a girly girl, she used the same shampoo and soaps he did, and on occasion they even shared deodorant. But with her it's different, she loved to be a girl, never liked to use his things when in the shower.

A lithe figure of a beautiful woman wrapped in a satin bathrobe waltzed into the room humming some song that was foreign to him, but it sounded classical, and like the rest of Orwell … expensive.

Her damp curtain of hair spilled off her shoulders as she leaned down and typed on her consuls, dozens of holographic screens pulled in front of her golden brown eyes as she read the streams of the morning's news.

"If we're going to start living together you got to start shaving out of the shower because our tub looks like a freaking bear took a bubble bath in it … and I really hope that the hair is from your face, because I really don't need to know that you … man … scape."

Orwell stopped looking at her holographic monitors and at Vince who was watching her with emotionless eyes flecked with some unknown feeling that could be anger.

"What?" She asked crossing her arms defensively.

He said nothing at the beauty, just examined her like she was some great sculpture at an art house that he was starting get the meaning of.

"Stare much?" She tilted her head at him starting to feel a little uncomfortable under the mystery gaze of the man.

But like before Vince said nothing, his blue eyes seeing through all the layers and walls she built around her over the years, till there was nothing but a scared naked girl looking back at them.

She shrank back a little at him as he rose and finally spoke to her.

"You have his eyes …"

It was simple statement and yet it struck her like a sludge hammer, smashing through everything she defended herself with.

Then like all the other times when cornered the young woman turned to run from the man. Holding the robe together to cover her nakedness she sprang swiftly for the door, not knowing where she was going once she got out into the crowded dock markets.

A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her back with a yank. Orwell let out a frightened gasp as she was pushed up against a wall hand around her soft throat. Her golden flecked eyes watched the detective as he pinned the slender young woman to the wall.

She wanted to fight back, to kick, scratch, and bite at him, but when his blue gems got ahold of her she couldn't do anything but look back at him.

Fear ran through her, was he going to kill her? Would he accuse her of ruining her life because of her rampant issues or because he thought she thought this was game like their enemy did? Would he accuse her of being the same?

His eyes saw through her and what she had been through, what her father had done. Vince Faraday removed his hand from her throat and looked down at Orwell, her hot scared breath stinging his face.

"I'm so sorry …" He said tenderly to her.

He wasn't apologizing for cornering her or pushing against the wall. He apologized to her for not being there as a police man when there needed to be one. For no one there to protect her in that large cold mansion when she needed to be.

It was at this moment Vince Faraday realized that his life wasn't the first that Peter Fleming had taken and he suddenly felt lucky that he hadn't lost his soul to the man like Orwell had.

Suddenly the young woman's eyes began to mist over and tears began to form in her eyes. She was exposed and had nothing to hide and there was an anger and black hate from the helplessness.

"How could he do that to me?" She screamed a sob

"It's alright …" Vince took her into his arms as she buried her face into his chest sobbing angrily, her fists clenching his grey hoody. "We'll stop him … I promise." He consoled her gently kissing her damp hair.

"I won't let him hurt anyone ever again … especially you."

One day those blue eyes would regret those words when Dana Faraday will die at the hands of ARC. But then he'll keep his promise when they see the imprisonment of Peter Fleming as chess, and be half blinded by the flashes of the camera bulbs as the media stormed around him as he walked out of a federal court a free man.

And one day the magic eye would watch Trip Faraday walk across a stage and accept a High School Diploma. Then the proud father will turn and the same young woman he was holding in his arms now will be smiling at his side in a beautiful sun dress wearing a wedding ring on the hand that was grasping his tightly.

When that day comes a frail scraggly old man in the mountains of Afghanistan will look up from his flock of stinking sheep at the star field above and give a knowing smile as a shooting star glides across the night sky.


End file.
